


Please Have Snow and Mistletoe

by ChibisUnleashed, KamuiWithFangs



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, Post-Movie, Rating for Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-02-22 22:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13176396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibisUnleashed/pseuds/ChibisUnleashed, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KamuiWithFangs/pseuds/KamuiWithFangs
Summary: For RotG Secret Santa 2017!Pitch isn't a fan of winter games and Jack's not really into Christmas parties, but fate doesn't care. That's okay, North's huge holiday extravaganza can't be that bad, right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reereading](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reereading/gifts).



It was an odd thing about empty parking lots that with all the actual potential places to hide gone, the impression left on a person’s psyche was that someone, anyone could be around every non-existent corner. Pitch waited in the shadow of a light pole, base wide enough to hide an actual human, more than enough room for a  wisp like him. The sun had fallen below the horizon, but the shine of twilight still lit the world too much for Pitch’s tastes. He wanted,  _ needed  _ darkness to take hold. For the shadows to be so long as to never end.  _ Then  _ he would strike. Then his mere presence would be enough to turn wariness into fear, his voice would turn fear into  _ terror  _ and-

And Pitch jumped at least a foot when he felt the icy caress of frost slide down his spine.

_ “Damn  _ it, Jack!” Pitch cursed, turning on a dime to glare as hard as he could at the winter spirit. If his glare lacked heat, it wasn’t because of a lack of anger, Pitch swore. It was merely because glaring was difficult when the whole rest of your body wanted to shiver. Like a frightened puppy.  _ How  _ was he supposed to scare people like this?

“Yes?” Jack asked sweetly from the other side of the pole. There was no chance of Pitch’s mark seeing him; no way they still believed in a childhood spirit like him. But still, Pitch thought it was rather unclassy that he stood out in the open when Pitch was trying to  _ work.  _

“Get lost, Frost,” Pitch almost winced at the rhyme. Nothing sounded less threatening than an unintentional rhyme. “I’m  _ busy.”  _

“Oh, I know,” Jack soothed, expression full of mocking, “ _ So  _ busy. Waiting. In a parking lot. By yourself. Alone. For how long again?”

Each word grated on Pitch’s nerves until his face smoothed into a blank sheet out of self-defense. Pitch had gotten good at this lately, although he still struggled not to give Jack any ammunition. The man was an expert at wheedling. If only Pitch could survive on attention alone; Jack Frost supplied  _ that  _ in droves.

_ Why  _ was still a riddle Pitch didn’t have the answer to. Surely Jack was plenty busy with his crowds of children and Guardian buddies. What ever did he need Pitch for? Except to irritate to death. Maybe that was some kind of grand plan?

“Don’t you have teammates to fraternize with?”

Jack shrugged, “They’re busy.”

“Busy?” Pitch asked, sensing the opening for a potential sting. He couldn’t tell anymore if he actually wanted to hurt Jack. The sting of his own defeat hadn’t quite left him, but the loneliness that came before it hadn’t had the chance to return. Pitch was still deciding whether he should thank Jack for that or, as he was doing right now, chase him off again. “Or just done being pestered by  _ you?”  _

“Oh no, Baby,” Jack cooed and leaned halfway around the pole to look up at the Boogeyman with lidded eyes, “This level of annoyance is all for  _ you.”  _

Pitch kept his unimpressed mask carefully in place, because it was really unfair what a look like that did to him. Pet names. Special treatment. If only it meant anything at all. 

With a grand sigh, Pitch dismissed Jack’s play, “If you’re quite done, Frost, I have an actual  _ job  _ to do.”

Jack hummed and tilted his head the other way to look off in the distance, “I think your job is driving off. And listening to dubstep Jingle Bells, if my ears don’t lie.”

Pitch did his very best not to startle and gape, but Jack had this nasty way of making him do just that  _ all the time.  _ Sure enough, his mark was gone on their merry way.  _ Fuck.  _

Glaring was much easier this time, pretty hair, pretty eyes, pretty face and all. Jack cost him a believer and Pitch didn’t have those to spare.  _ “Goodnight, Frost.”  _

Jack started up, “Wait-” but Pitch didn’t, sinking into the shadow he’d been hiding in all evening and escaping to the depths of his lair where he could sulk about the wasted time all on his own. He could go out later and try again, but Jack had ruined at least this much of his night and Pitch felt justified in taking a minute to stomp around his home and be angry about it.

_ This  _ was why he couldn’t take those looks or those words at face value. Jack didn’t care about  _ him.  _ Jack cared about getting a laugh and if Pitch remained powerless forever, well all the funnier for  _ Jack.  _ A snowball to the face here, a slip on the ice there, and Pitch couldn’t do his job, couldn’t gather believers, couldn’t become anything more than the butt of the Guardians’ jokes. 

He’d had it. 

Pitch was going to get Jack back for this. Jack liked pranks? Pitch could do  _ pranks.  _ He would plan the end all be all of pranks and finally,  _ finally  _ beat out that pesky, newcomer Guardian at his own game. That would be it, the end, and Pitch could go back to scaring as he pleased, gathering power one night at a time, in  _ peace.  _

And if he was a little lonelier for it, well at least he’d have his nightmares. 


	2. Chapter 2

Pitch considered it a grand stroke of luck to have come upon Jack by chance like this. The frost spirit was spectacularly accomplished at finding Pitch wherever and whenever he seemed to want to, but Pitch hadn’t actively sought out the other in quite a while and on the day when he finally meant to stretch his stalking muscles, to find Jack mere yards from his lair made the whole thing seem like fate.

Pitch was  _ meant  _ to succeed this time.

“Good evening, Frost,” Pitch opened, slinking as silently as he could up to Jack’s side. It was actually about noon, but ‘evening’ was a much easier word to draw out than ‘day’ and the Nightmare King wasn’t trying to be  _ charming.  _

Jack was surprised. Not just by the time of day (Pitch was  _ never  _ out in the sunlight if he could help it,) but Jack usually had to hunt him down if he wanted to say hi. Here Pitch was, offering himself up for Jack’s teasing pleasure, sun at its highest in the sky, and Jack hadn’t even had to say  _ please.  _

If Christmas hadn’t already passed, Jack would’ve said it came early. 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t stay uncomfortably close to Pitch, as the Boogeyman so obviously planned. The lake’s ice wasn’t yet thick enough and the kids of Burgess almost had their skates laced up already. Jack skipped away to the shore and tapped his staff to the surface, commanding the frost to spread and thicken and make everything a little safer for Jamie and his friends. 

Then he hopped onto the ice and let himself slide with a smoothness even the sharpest bladed skates couldn’t mimic. “What’s up, Pitch?” He wanted something. He  _ had  _ to want something. Pitch spent too long trying to get away from him to show up like this and  _ not  _ want something.

The corner of Pitch’s mouth twitched down and Jack wondered if leaving Pitch’s side had ruined his whole mood. “If I heard right, and I’m sure I heard right, isn’t North’s big holiday extravaganza tonight? Shouldn’t you be at the North Pole with all your  _ Guardian  _ friends?”

Jack spared a brief moment to wonder who Pitch had been listening in on. Could have been anyone. Could have been  _ him.  _ Pitch could be such a creepy guy.

But the answer was easy. Jack didn’t intend to go anywhere near the North Pole today. “Nah.”

Pitch’s unimpressed stare brought a grin to Jack’s face. He raised a single eyebrow and mimicked, “Nah?”

Jack had to laugh because that slang in that accent was a work of true comedic art. “I’m not going. Are you surprised?”

The seconds it took him to respond said he was. Jack’s grin widened. “But why not, Jack? It’s going to be the party of the year.” Mock-enthusiasm looked good on Pitch, and Jack wondered if he knew. “ _ Everyone  _ is going to be there. Nature spirits, folklore spirits,  _ Guardians... _ ”

“But not this one,” Jack replied and threw in a wink for good measure. One of these days, Pitch would notice he wasn’t  _ just  _ being playful.

“I reiterate,” Pitch pushed, gliding onto the ice to retake his place uncomfortably close to Jack, “Why not?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Jack confided, knowing damn well that Pitch had, “but parties full of adults aren’t really my thing.” 

Pitch leaned in as if Jack were telling a secret, and despite himself, he was pleased that the Boogeyman was playing along. Even if he was still wondering  _ why.  _ “But they aren’t  _ adults,  _ Jack. They’re  _ spirits.”  _

_ “Adult  _ spirits.”

“I never thought you were one to sweat details like that, Jack.”

When had Pitch gone from calling him ‘Frost,’ to ‘Jack’? Something was definitely up.

“And I didn’t think  _ you  _ cared where I spent my days,” Jack returned, “But if you just  _ have  _ to know, I’d rather spend the time out and about, enjoying the lack of walls and making white Christmases for everyone.”

Pitch’s eyes widened and Jack almost believed the look of concerned interest on his face. Almost. “It’s past Christmas, Jack.”

Jack indulged him with a tilt of his head and imploring eyes, “That doesn’t mean the holiday’s over.”

There was a shift to Pitch’s gaze, a shadow cast that dulled the metallic shine in his eyes. It reminded Jack of the looks Pitch gave him when he taunted about his memories, when he snuffed out the streetlights and thought he’d won. 

_ Something was up.  _

Jack never got to find out what it was. One second he was staring at Pitch with increasing trepidation and concern, the next was a blur of dark red and then darkness. Pitch’s synchronous cry of outrage (with Jack’s surprised yelp) let him know the culprit was someone else, but it was the uniquely loud sound of a small tear in space-time that really told Jack what was happening.

Yetis.

Yetis were happening.

“Frost!” Pitch shouted, and hey, Jack was back to the distant name, “What is the meaning of this?!”

“Could you  _ sound  _ any more like a Disney villain?” Jack asked, because honestly, that could not be overlooked. 

“Is that a challenge?”

It really wasn’t. Jack hurried on to explain before Pitch could think it was. “It’s North’s yetis. He probably knew I wasn’t going to show, so he’s having me kidnapped instead.”

There was a suspiciously long moment of silence, filled only with the background noise of grunting yetis and the dull thuds of limbs colliding with limbs they really ought not to have been so close to. Jack couldn’t help it, North’s gift sacks didn’t leave much room to stretch. So what if Jack was kind of enjoying the way their legs were tangled and his chest was pressed to Pitch’s side? That didn’t mean he was doing it on  _ purpose. _

“This is normal, then?”

“I sarcastically told him I love it once. He didn’t get the tone and I can’t take it back now. Apparently.”

Pitch cleared his throat, and when he spoke again his controlled, aristocratic tone was back, “This falls into the category of things you Guardians do that I will never understand.”

“To be honest,” Jack kind of wanted to keep him talking just so he could hear it more, “I don’t really get this one either, so that’s fair.”

They must have arrived, because the floor found them suddenly and unforgivingly and Jack barely bit back his groan of pain. He saw light for the first time since their capture through the lax opening of the bag, now that the yetis weren’t holding it closed, and he’d never been so disappointed to be able to see.

Except that it allowed him to look up at Pitch, precariously balanced beside/over him, and ask, “What’re the chances that you’d rather just stay in here with me?”

Pitch looked torn, and Jack loved every bit of it, “Actually…”

“Jack Frost!” North boomed from outside their tremulous shelter, and Jack knew they would never be allowed to run, “Welcome to the party!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I play around with the POV a bit in this one. It just worked out funnier that way.

Apparently, ‘welcome’ came with a slap on the back, a cookie in his mouth, ostensibly to shut him up, and half a Christmas card shoved in his hoodie pocket with instructions loudly whispered in his ear to, ‘keep hold of it.’ 

And then he noticed Pitch. 

Jack could tell because North said his name very loudly and attracted the attention of every other spirit in the room.

“Pitch Black!”

Classic North.

Pitch pulled himself from the gift sack and stood to his full height with an impressive amount of poise given that it amounted to crawling out of a bag and standing up. “North.” 

Jack did his best to look around without obviously looking around, searching out the other Guardians with his gaze. Most spirits didn’t care what Pitch was up to, it’s not like he was launching plots to destroy  _ everyone  _ all the time, so really, it was a limited list of people likely to suddenly run across the room and punch Pitch square in the mouth…

And it looked like Tooth was not, in fact, going to do that. Jack relaxed his shoulders. Good.

Still, there were narrowed eyes and a stretching silence as North and Pitch sized each other up. Pitch’s glare was dark and murderous, challenging North to start a brawl right here, right now. But North…

His mouth was set in a frown, but his brow was pinched in a way that Jack knew meant consideration, that his decision wasn’t already made. His eyes narrowed further, a wince that looked a little bit like pain, and then he threw his arms out and pasted that huge smile back on his face.

“Welcome to the party!”

Pitch looked a lot like Jack felt: utterly dumbfounded.

“What?”

“Is good to see you. Glad you could make it,” North went on, making a show of wrapping an arm around Pitch’s back and leading him closer to the festivities, “Have a drink. Try to stay off Naughty List next year, yeah? And,” Suddenly North’s hand was wrist-deep in Pitch’s robe and Jack wasn’t sure if he was jealous of that or overjoyed at the hilariously indignant squawk that left Pitch in the same moment, “keep hold of this.”

North was completely incapable of whispering. 

Jack considered himself lucky. Without Pitch, Jack’s arrival would have been the sum total of the breaking news, and chances were, all of North’s focus would have been on  _ him.  _ This way, Jack could slide mostly unnoticed into the party and maybe escape further manhandling for the rest of the evening.

Well, except that Tooth was here.

Pitch considered himself cursed. What was he thinking earlier?  _ Meant  _ to succeed? What a joke. His whole life was a joke, at this point.

Why ever was he still trying?

After being ruined, kidnapped, stared down, harangued, and coerced into this party, Pitch was almost ready to declare that it could not get worse. He refused to actually do so however, on the off chance that fate was listening and would accept the challenge. 

Did he use harangue in the past tense? He should have used present.

“I know temptation is hard,” North continued on without stopping to make sure Pitch was still listening, “But this is  _ chance,  _ Pitch! Enjoy party, don’t cause trouble, and we can be-”

Given the excitement he went into the sentence with, Pitch found himself thoroughly unimpressed with the silent struggle that stopped him.

“Peers!”

Pitch snorted, “That was seriously the best you could come up with?”

North’s tone turned dry, “Do you have better word?”

“I have  _ choice  _ words,” Pitch muttered, wondering when his misery would end. And then he saw it.

Mistletoe.

Thankfully it was yards away, hovering innocuously over the heads of the Groundhog and Tooth, who very sweetly pecked him on the cheek and shared a laugh. This called for high alert. This called for maximum wariness. This called for Pitch watching over both shoulders and above his head for the whole eveni-

“Ah,” North exclaimed, and when Pitch turned around, he was looking up. Oh no. “Mistletoe.”

**_“Noooo!”_ **

Jack blinked and looked over at the odd sound. He’d only heard Pitch sound like that once before. And it was just in time to see Pitch struggling against one of North’s famous bear hugs and what appeared to be his entire face enveloped in North’s lips for a sloppy kiss that Jack, for Pitch’s sake, hoped landed mostly on his cheek and not somewhere more unfortunate like, for example, an eyeball.

There was only one explanation for this, and Jack checked above their heads to confirm. Ah, yes.

_ Mistletoe.  _

It was great for pranks, and Jack mostly loved the stuff, but he was definitely going to run for his life if he ended up near it and North. None of that looked pleasant. None. Of that.

A nudge in his side drew Jack’s attention, and he looked down to find the Sandman offering him a toast. 

“Hey, Sandy! Glad you could make it. Knocked out a few time zones early to make time?”

The Sandman didn’t answer verbally, he never did, but an impish wink told Jack everything he needed to know. 

“Time for game!”

North’s announcement was met with every reaction from excited anticipation to reluctance and trepidation. Mostly from Pitch. Watching him was becoming Jack’s favorite part of this forced get-together. For his part, Jack found himself somewhere in between. This could either be a lot of fun or a train wreck in the making, so Jack quieted down and listened intently  _ just in case  _ he might not be able to hear.

Ha, that was a joke.

“Take out card,” North instructed the party at large, “You have only half. Someone else has other half. First three pairs to match win a prize!”

Jack, along with literally everyone else, eyed his card curiously as he pulled it out of its hiding place. He fingered the foil and glitter monstrosity (That he still, somehow, adored. He considered that Christmas magic: tacky made wonderful one time a year.) and considered whether he  _ really  _ had to go find whoever else had the other half. 

He returned his eyes to North, “What do we win?”

There was an amused glint to North’s eyes that told Jack the older Guardian had expected this question from him. Which meant his entire answer was scripted, from the gracious nodding to the indulgent tone, all. 

“Why,  _ they  _ don’t have to participate in  _ next  _ game, of course! Free pass!”

The speed with which the entire room erupted into motion gave Jack whiplash. He stood half-numb with his card in hand as spirit after spirit ran up, held their card next to it, then ran off again. It was the first choir of, “We got one!” followed by joyous cries of festivity exemption that broke him out of his haze, and Jack was finally in on the hunt. 

He wasn’t even processing their faces, just their hands and the cards they held as he raced to find a match. He ignored the triumphant cheers of the second match found and focused on becoming the third. He  _ would  _ win this. He  _ would not  _ be subject to North’s whims the entire night.

In the back of his mind, Jack considered this prize and what it meant. North knew damn well that nobody enjoyed having to do this and yet the bastard engineered it all, anyway. Why did Jack love him so much? 

Elation struck Jack to the core when the gaudy design of his card finally matched up with the card he held it to. He was sucking in the air to declare their triumph when, from across the room, someone else screamed it out, first.

Deflated, defeated, and reeling from the sudden drop into devastation, Jack stared at the hand that came too late. No, not hand.  _ Paw.  _

_ That was a paw.  _

“Congratulations!” North shouted over their heads, “Good job, everyone! The rest of you: other card half is partner for next game!”

Jack already knew, but he looked up anyway. 

Bunny and he groaned and hid their face in perfect, dejected unison. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV switches again.

Jack listened to the game rules in a haze, more focused on ignoring Bunny beside him and watching Pitch sulk. 

They were peers, colleagues, teammates, partners, but Bunny and he were never going to see eye-to-eye on methodology or priorities. They had settled into a rough live and let live sort of agreement, with respect and fond feelings, but a rather noticeable tendency to try and work together with  _ anyone else.  _

How they were going to make it through a  _ game  _ without breaking something, namely each other, was anyone’s guess. 

Jack’s only comfort was that Pitch wasn’t any happier, standing roughly four feet taller than his partner, the groundhog. Whatever game they were playing, it better not rely on equal footing. 

Pitch, busy crossing his arms and looking pissed over the fact that his sparkly, gaudy card matched with the spirit beside him, caught his eye for a split second and Jack took the opportunity to smile. 

“What’re you smilin’ about?” Bunny demanded from his side, “Didn’t you hear him?”

“Hear what?” 

“Seriously?”

Jack hated to do it, but he tore his eyes from Pitch to face his  _ partner.  _ “Hear what?”

“The  _ rules,  _ Jack. The game we’re playing? The whole reason we’re  _ in this mess?”  _

Jack shook his head and wagged a finger, “The reason we’re in this mess is  _ North.”  _

Bunny paused to consider. “Yeah, okay, but beside that. We gotta work together. We gotta figure this out.”

“Or,” Jack drawled, “we could not, pretend we are, and just fail at the game. It’s not like you and I are gonna win it, anyway.”

Bunny was already shaking his head, “North would see it. North would  _ know,  _ and I don’t wanna find out what he’d do to us  _ then.”  _

Jack sighed and admitted defeat. This was not how he’d planned this day going. “Alright, what’s the game?”

“You know the game with the egg on the spoon?”

“You mean your every Saturday night?”

“I will punch you.”

“I gotta ask, is it like  _ always  _ having boxing gloves on?”

“Don’t make me punch you.”

“Are you  _ sure  _ you’re not a kangaroo?”

“Three seconds, Jack.”

“Because where is the lie?”

“Three seconds, and then I punch you.”

“Boys,” Tooth’s teasing voice interrupted from behind them, and they turned in unison to face her, “I don’t suppose either of you were ever going to notice that you’ve been standing under mistletoe for the past five minutes?”

Jack hid his face again, trusting in Tooth not to lie to them, but Bunny looked up, hopeful as always that he wouldn’t be confirming their misfortune.

Their misfortune it was.

“I hate this party,” Bunny grumbled, turning to Jack with resignation in his eyes. If he hadn’t believed Tooth before, he would believe her now. 

Which didn’t mean either one of them was going to make the first move. The tradition of the mistletoe was sacred and if North didn’t insist, the yetis would, and it wasn’t  _ that  _ awful. They didn’t have to use tongue or something, but on the principle of the thing…

Jack leaned toward his cheek at the same time Bunny surged forward for the same thing and they stopped short. Lips pressed together, Jack went for the other side, except Bunny didn’t and they had to pull back again. 

They eyed each other consideringly, skeptically, reluctantly, looking for the least offensive and easiest accessible location for the required meeting of lips. Bunny was about ready to dive in for another try when Jack lifted up on his toes to theatrically look him over.

“Is there any part of you  _ not  _ covered in fur?”

“Crack off,” Bunny scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

“Is that an egg pun?”

Bunny’s eyebrow twitched up, “Gotta think of the ankle biters.”

That was fair, and honestly, Jack just wanted to get this over with now. He reached up and pulled Bunny down for a kiss on the top of his head, the same as he’d give any fluffy bunny he caught hopping through the snow. 

The  _ look  _ Bunny gave him when he leaned away said he knew that, too. 

“The rules?” 

Bunny sighed but indulged him, “The egg game with the spoon.”

_ “Not  _ your Saturday night.”

Jack went ignored, “Where you race back and forth without dropping it. But with a bauble.”

“A bauble?”

“The little glass ones? On the chrissy tree?”

“Oh!” Jack’s epiphany was short-lived, “Ornaments on a spoon?”

“Delicious, yeah?” Bunny snorted, “You’re talking to a giant rabbit and you’re questioning the ornaments on a spoon.”

“Can you even hold a spoon?”

“I can beat you with a spoon.”

They were interrupted, shockingly, by a spoon. Jack considered it a flattering compliment that the yeti wagged it reproachfully at him before shoving both spoon and little glass bauble into Bunny’s paws. 

Probably a wise decision on the yeti’s part.

“It is time for game!” North announced with his arms in the air, “Racers ready?”

By the way the entire room scrambled to line up in one neat row, Pitch would guess not. 

He was irritated by the way the Groundhog insisted on being first, but he would have been equally miffed if  _ Pitch _ had been made to go first, so there was no winning, and Pitch knew that, but fuck it because he didn’t even want to  _ be  _ here. 

Here, where he got to just stand there, Mr. Cellophane, watching Jack get caught under the mistletoe with however many spirits this party had. They loved him now, didn’t they? Now that he was a Guardian. Pitch remembered when no one wanted him around, but friends were such good friends when the weather was fair.

North blew a whistle and the racers were off, scurrying across the room, wobbling on their feet, trying to match the rocking of their little glass orb in its little metal cradle. Pitch glared at the back of the groundhog as he took off. Just how did a God damn  _ beaver  _ have more believers than the King of Nightmares, exactly? But he was distracted by a commotion some rows down.

Jack and Bunny were having a bit of a late start. They seemed to be furiously whispering tactics at each other while Jack pushed Bunny to move and Bunny pushed back just because. Impressively, the jostling of the players didn’t seem to affect the ornament at all, and if one of them had decided to just run with the thing, they might have won this.

Instead, the whispering escalated to name calling, escalated to cursing, before Bunny threw up his unoccupied hand and finally started down the line. 

He  _ would  _ be unnaturally skilled at the egg on a spoon game, wouldn’t he?

Pitch went back to glaring at the groundhog, ineffectually waddling back and forth with his spoon. He may not drop the bauble, but it wouldn’t matter if he never even made it to the turnaround point. 

Several spirits had lost their glass balls to the floor already. That uniquely tragic sound of glass shattering at a high pitch signaling another lost ornament, the same sound that struck fear of Mom into the hearts of children every Christmas, had become the background music of this game. 

Pitch tuned it out to think.

The mistletoe was all fun and games, a harmless trap to make already close spirits get even closer. Nobody thought twice about Jack kissing Bunny, except perhaps Jack and Bunny, but what about  _ him?  _ The rest of the Guardians hadn’t been present to witness his failure, so they wouldn’t know the exercise in futility it would be to trap Jack with Pitch. 

Just how would they react to Jack kissing the Nightmare King? Would they gasp? Would they panic? How delicious would their fear and anxiety taste? A smirk began to pull at Pitch’s lips, disconcerting the Groundhog finally headed back his way. It was a nice snack, but Pitch had his sights set on a bigger feast, now.

Cheers to his left let Pitch know a winner had been decided, but his eyes were on the losers to his right. Bunny had made up much of the time they had wasted, and Jack was fast doing the same, already coming back from his lap, but it wasn’t quite enough. Pitch couldn’t help the thought, that if Jack had been  _ his  _ partner, if only the dice had rolled in his favor,  _ they  _ could have won. 

But he wasn’t, and they didn’t. 

“Congratulations!” North boomed, patting the winners on their back, and revealing the unsurprising prize that was the only thing worth winning here, “You are free of next game! Everybody else, grab a bag of marshmallows!”

Pitch closed his eyes, let his shoulders slump, and wished it was worth it to pray.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pov switching is normal by now.

The room was in chaos. 

Every spirit still roped into playing seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement to bullshit as long as possible to delay the start of the next game. There was one in particular who had asked North where the marshmallows were five times already and every time turned in the opposite direction to the one she was told.

A true hero.

Pitch had made his way to the edge of the room, prepared to loom and look uninviting for as long as it took. The silly rodent had already gathered their bag of marshmallows, and the way he was eyeing it, Pitch wasn’t sure they would make it to the game. 

Jack and Bunny were already back to arguing with each other. Pitch would be pleased if he didn’t know how little that mattered. They could fight all day and night for weeks at a time and Jack would still, at the end of it all, choose the Guardians over him. Pitch had made his offer more than once. Jack was loyal to his cause. It was as endearing as it was frustrating. 

They made it to shoving each other in the shoulder a grand total of three times before Jack gave it up and walked away. After North’s twelve descriptions of where the marshmallows were, Jack had no problem making his way over.

Pitch, however, had a  _ big  _ problem with it.

There was a rather large and… skillfully-put-together, Pitch begrudgingly admitted only in his head, bouquet of mistletoe directly in the path of Jack, and Tooth had just fluttered up beside him as escort to the marshmallows. Pitch did not want to sit through another sweet and silly bonding of Guardians via forced kisses.

Especially with Jack, but Pitch wasn’t looking at that bit too closely right now.

Right now, he just wanted to spare his eyes the chore of enduring chummy Guardians smiling all over each other while Pitch stood in the corner and sulked harder. So Pitch decided not to sulk, and get some revenge instead.

It barely took a thought to summon the puddle of shadows beneath Jack’s feet.

The startled yelp swallowed by the darkness was  _ so  _ satisfying. 

Tooth’s glare, doubly so.

The sudden crash over by the marshmallow table was but a cherry on top.

Pitch’s elation lasted only as long as it took for the nudge against his hip to register. The King of Nightmares did a double-take because holy shit, when had the Sandman gotten that close? He hopped to the side as far as his long legs would allow, but... 

No.

**_No._ **

The little golden ball of imminent doom was pointing  _ up.  _

Pitch refused to look.

Thankfully, Jack hadn’t actually broken anything in his landing. Overturned a table, yes. Spilled an artistically arranged bowl of fruit, check. Launched every single bag of marshmallows into the air and laid there while every single one came back down to pelt him in the face and chest? Absolutely. 

He didn’t know what he’d done to offend Pitch, until he thought about it a second and realized he’d done _ a lot  _ in the past few months that might have offended Pitch. Okay, yeah, he deserved a little targeted table flipping. Still, Jack wondered why he started his payback  _ now.  _

An undignified sound of strangled desperation made Jack look up from collecting apples off the floor. He winced, but couldn’t look away from the train wreck that was Sandy dragging Pitch back to the mistletoe by ropes of dreamsand. That could not have been how the Nightmare King meant for this prank to go. 

“Okay! Back in line!” North commanded. Apparently he’d taken it upon himself to  _ deliver  _ the bag of marshmallows to the wayward hero of them all, thus rendering them out of time. Jack tossed his bag in the air and caught it, wondering how Bunny and he were gonna fuck this one up. 

“Is snowball fight!” 

Or not. Jack could definitely nail Bunny with marshmallows, not a problem. 

“First throws marshmallow, second catches in mouth!”

Nevermind.

Still, it wasn’t an argument who would be throwing. Bunny could try, but in a snowball fight, no one had better accuracy than Jack. All Bunny would have to do, is catch.

With his mouth.

Surely it was big enough to handle  _ that. _

…

It was not big enough to handle that.

The problem wasn’t actually Bunny’s mouth, it was that Bunny’s mouth  _ moved.  _ Jack had excellent aim, but he couldn’t get Bunny to trust that for the life of him. Every perfectly thrown marshmallow was thwarted by Bunny  _ trying  _ to catch it. And Jack was so done.

_ “Hold. Still.”  _

“Just throw it!” 

“Not until you  _ promise  _ to stay still!”

“We’re gonna lose!”

_ “Because of you.”  _

Pitch was, honestly, bored out of his mind. He felt like all he was doing was feeding the gopher in the most difficult way possible. The gopher, as it happened, didn’t seem to mind. 

Except, of course, when he missed. 

Pitch’s smirk was well settled after the second marshmallow nearly took out an eye. Unintentionally.

It was his only source of amusement. That is, until Jack started throwing marshmallows purposely off-point to make the rabbit dive for them.  _ That.  _

That was funny. 

With Pitch sabotaging his own team anyway, he didn’t see the harm in finding out whether Bunny would dive for just any marshmallow. With as natural an act as possible, the Nightmare King lopped a sweet confectionary away from his own partner toward Jack’s, instead.

And nailed him in the face.

Oops.

“Whaddya think you’re  _ doin’?”  _ the rabbit demanded, and Pitch could understand his ire, but really, if he’d caught it in his mouth, that would have been a point, wouldn’t it?

“Yeah,” Jack echoed, and his words were the same but his expression was not. Jack was  _ obviously  _ entertained. “What’re you doing,  _ Pitch?”  _

And then he threw a marshmallow at him.

Pitch was so shocked he forgot to dodge. 

He was not so shocked that he didn’t retaliate. 

The groundhog was disappointed and Bunny was  _ pissed,  _ but there was no stopping them now. Pitch’s aim wasn’t as good as Jack’s, but the frost spirit’s ability to dodge paled next to Pitch. Jack could throw three at a time but that only meant he ran through his half-a-bag of marshmallows first and had to steal another spirit’s to keep going.

They must not have been the only bored spirits because it barely took a minute for the rest of the line to join them. Catching spirits raced to the marshmallow table to grab their own bags and, in one notable case, throw the entire unopened thing across the room to peg friend or foe alike. 

It was definitely the minority trying to return to the official game and they went utterly ignored as rivalry upon rivalry exhausted itself in sugary war. Pitch tuned them out, unable to focus on anything but diving away from Jack’s strikes and launching his own. True to his word, the man was  _ good  _ at snowball fights and Pitch was definitely taking more hits than he’d like.

To the face.

Because,  _ of course.  _

Pitch had one and only one trick up his sleeve. The next time he disappeared into a shadow to escape a not one, not two, but three marshmallow slap to the face, he reappeared in  _ Jack’s  _ shadow, just behind him.

He lifted everything left in his bag over Jack’s head and prepared to flip it over.

He never got the chance.

That spry little nymph of a Guardian must have figured out his plan because he spun around just in time to fucking  _ tackle  _ Pitch to the floor and what had he ever done to deserve  _ that  _ exactly?

They hit the floor hard, but Pitch still went with his plan, repositioning his bag and upending the whole thing over Jack. It was a bit like shooting himself in the foot since Jack was, in turn, over  _ Pitch.  _

And then the asshole one-upped him by turning  _ his  _ bag over on  _ Pitch’s  _ face. 

Fuck everything, would he ever win?

Scratch that. Pitch already knew the answer.

And then a  _ whole goddamn bag  _ hit him on the side from who knows where and the Nightmare King gave up on life right then and there.

But the worst part, the absolute  _ worst  _ part, was that his irritation didn’t even last. Not when Jack’s laugh was so obviously delighted and nowhere near mean.

That wasn’t  _ fair.  _

All that was left to do was sulk  _ harder.  _

“Oh my God, Pitch,” Jack could barely keep his chuckles under control, “That… That was… You know what?” Pitch didn’t. “Thank you.  _ Thank you  _ for that, because I think I was actually about to murder Bunny. For real, this time.”

Pitch could think of only one thing to say to that.

“Aw, rats.”

Which just made Jack dissolve into peals of laughter all over again. Pitch minded even less this time, which said something, which  _ meant  _ something, that he was almost ready to deal with.

But not yet.

“I didn’t do it for  _ you,  _ you know. I realize it’s hard for you to imagine, but my world does not, in fact, revolve around  _ you.”  _

Jack shook his head, broad smile still in place, “No, I know, I know. But you needed to hear it from someone. This was the best thing to happen at this party so far, and  _ you  _ started it.”

“Yes, well, I’m not terribly good at following the rules.”

Jack shrugged one shameless shoulder, “Me neither.”

“Game over! Game over!” North shouted from the other side of the room, and if Pitch wasn’t mistaken, he sounded on the verge of panic, “Yetis, find winners. Everyone else, there is one last game!”

Pitch groaned and dropped his head to the floor, surprised when he heard and felt Jack do the same to his chest. Wasn’t that just a  _ tad  _ too familiar? Then again, it was Jack Frost.

“I guess our break is over,” he heard the Guardian mutter dejectedly.

“And the torture continues,” Pitch agreed. 

They untangled themselves and stood up from the floor, brushing off wayward marshmallows as they found them. An impressive five had made a home in the bowl of Jack’s hood, and by the time they were presentable again, a yeti was right there with what was obviously a decorated tissue box attached to a ribbon belt. 

“Next game is called,” they heard North announce, “Jingle in the trunk!”

Pitch immediately escaped into the floor and left Jack to deal with  _ that  _ on his own. 


	6. Chapter 6

Jack wasn't sure which was more upsetting: being ditched like that or the lost opportunity to watch Pitch shake his hips.

To be fair, even if Pitch had stuck around, Jack likely would have been blessed with little more than a grown man sulking with his arms crossed and a cardboard box strapped to his butt.

Still would have been worth it.

The object of the game was deceptively simple: without using your hands, eject all the Christmas ornaments from your butt box, ostensibly by shaking your ass  _ just that hard.  _

The yetis were hovering uncomfortably close to watch for cheating, which made too much sense after the last game but took nearly all of the fun out of it for Jack. Besides, what was the point of wiggling his hips when the only people around to see it were coworkers and old people and animals and people who didn’t actually like him? 

Jack bit his lip and wondered when all his fun started hinging on Pitch’s presence. Which, come to think of it, was hella ironic and probably worth a closer look sometime when a tissue box full of baubles was not strapped to his ass. 

The music started and Jack…

Jack sighed, resigned himself to his fate, and gave his ass a good  _ shake.  _

Pitch wondered why he was still here. 

He could leave. It was a Guardian’s party; there was little chance North would care if Pitch went missing. He didn’t have to endure a single moment more of this cursed celebration. He could slip right back into the shadow he’d just come from, go back to his lair, and forget the whole thing.

...And yet, he wasn’t doing that. 

He was hiding in a dark corner, in some room left unused for the party, enjoying the relative quiet. He was staying still, staying put, contemplating what it was he wanted to do next, when it should have been an easy, even  _ obvious,  _ decision. 

It wasn’t even until he’d asked himself what it was he wanted from this place that he remembered his plan to scare the self-righteous Guardians by catching Jack in a kiss. What kind of devious villain was he, if a marshmallow fight made him forget his grand plans? And just  _ what  _ had distracted him from his revenge?

That was a stupid question. 

That was a dangerous question.

Pitch knew the answer. He wouldn’t dare say it, though. Not even within the safety of his own mind.

The question he  _ could  _ ask himself: was sticking around worth it? He may or may not get a good scare out of the rest of this party. He may or may not be forced to talk to spirits he could barely stand if he went back out there. He was  _ not  _ going back out there before the current game was done though, so at least that decision was easy. Truly, the only guarantee of the night was time spent  _ admiring.  _ Up close, from afar, however it happened… Pitch could admire.

So was putting up with the rest of it worth  _ that?  _

…

Pitch really didn’t think so. He saw…  _ plenty  _ on his own time. He could see… whenever he wanted. He didn’t need to be  _ here  _ for that.

But Pitch stayed in his corner. Something about that decision didn’t make him feel… assured, in control, or even  _ decisive.  _ He was fucking disappointed, and what exactly was  _ that  _ about? If it’s not worth it, he should leave. If it’s not worth it, his time was better spent elsewhere.

Pitch stood to pace. What he wanted and what he  _ wanted  _ were not aligning properly. They  _ should  _ be aligned perfectly. There was no decision left to be made, but the inability to  _ make a decision  _ was doing nothing but frustrating the Nightmare King, now in an endless loop of doubt and doubting again. 

What was he waiting for? An excuse? To be found? To have the decision taken out of his hands?

Just how weak  _ was  _ he?

Pitch decided not to go down that road. Not here. Not right now. 

Besides, something better had caught his eye. His pacing around the forgotten room had been fruitful, and whether Pitch had been looking for an excuse for not, he definitely found one.

_ This  _ was worth sticking around for. 

Jack didn’t think so. It  _ really sucked  _ that everyone knew he was one of the more energetic spirits, because that meant everyone could tell when he wasn’t really trying. Which evidently meant he had to  _ really try.  _ And it was  _ exhausting.  _

An impromptu rule had been thrown out mid-game when those that could fly had figured out gravity could be on their side. Now everyone was forced to stay earth-bound, or else Toothiana would have been kicking his ass at this. Jack kind of wished she  _ was  _ kicking his ass at this, so it could be over.

There was no good method for this. Except possibly shoving his ass backward as fast as he could shove it and praying he didn’t hit another spirit before he stopped and honestly, that was just… not a position Jack wanted to be in. Who thought up this game?

A sudden, miraculous, beautiful, merciful, cheer went up somewhere on the other side of the room and Jack slumped in relief. He untied the stupid box from his butt and tossed it without care to the floor. That was the last one, right? The night was almost over? Jack was ready to sleep  _ forever.  _

Or at least for like, fourteen hours or so. 

Jack tuned out whatever the winner had won. It wasn’t like it mattered. The games were done and Jack could go find himself a less crowded spot to loiter for the next half hour or so. 

He barely made it two steps before the lights of the workshop went out with a swift breeze. The fires in the hearths had been left alone to cast long, flickering shadows into the center of the room. The density of bodies was too great, and no real light made it through to illuminate the floor, just an eerie red and yellow glow on the edge of darkness. 

Everyone knew the Nightmare King was here. Everyone knew who would do this. Everyone was on guard, huddling closer in groups and peering around with their backs together, instinctively bracing for attack. The Guardians unsheathed their variety of weapons and took up battle stances despite no clear enemy to face. North sucked a great breath into his lungs to shout at Pitch to show himself.

It never left his lips. Complete darkness fell under the echoing sound of Pitch’s laughter, a light switch flipped off for just a second, and then every light in the workshop was back in a flash. Spirits covered their eyes from the harsh brilliance and waited for them to adjust before peering around to observe the fallout.

...There was none. Various exclamations of shock and confusion filtered from the crowd when not a single thing seemed out of place. The whole of the room was left untouched. North scrutinized every wood panel along the walls, every beam above their heads, sure he would find the sabotage.

A startled laugh from Bunny made everyone turn toward the middle of the crowd. There was Jack, standing alone, several feet from anyone else with a glittering silver hat pressed down on his head and bright, curled toe shoes on his usually bare feet. 

He looked about as pleased as anyone would expect about this turn of events. He remembered these shoes. He remembered the hopeful looks on the elves’ faces when they carried them out and  _ why the fuck did North still have them?  _

He kicked up one foot and reached down to yank one off, except it wouldn’t come. He pulled again, fruitlessly, and the expression of irritation on his face gave immediate way to distress. They were  _ frozen on.  _ They hadn’t just been slipped on his feet. They had been soaked first so that they would solidify against his icy skin.

With increasing panic, Jack reached up to swipe the hat from his head, but only ended up tugging painfully on his hair and skin. It was  _ stuck.  _ All of it was stuck. How was Jack going to-

His whole body froze when Jack remembered who was really to blame for this. The shoes were from North, yes. The whole ordeal had been a Guardian fiasco and Jack immediately associated the offensive clothing with them, but…

_ Pitch.  _

It was Pitch who had found them. Pitch who had put them on him. Pitch who had added some permanence to the, Jack would call this just what it was,  _ prank  _ by making it all an inconvenience to remove. God, looking at it that way, it was  _ brilliant.  _

Back on familiar ground, Jack let an easy, even  _ amused  _ smirk pull at his lips. Pitch could have done worse. Pitch could have ruined the party, if he’d wanted to. Pitch could have spouted pointless threats and made them all uncomfortable as he stomped out the door.

Instead, he had  _ pranked  _ Jack Frost.

Head held high, glitter catching the light and reflecting it like a disco ball on his head, Jack folded his arms and gracefully  _ allowed,  _ “Alright, Pitch. You got me.”

The infamous Nightmare King swept right up from the floor, as if he’d been waiting to be called all along. The grin on his face had a mean edge of glory, but Jack wasn’t concerned in the least.

Jack was  _ thrilled.  _

How many times had Jack messed up Pitch’s plans? How many times had he made it hard for Pitch to operate? How many times had he shown up just to throw a wrench in the gears? And finally, finally,  _ finally…  _

Pitch was catching onto the game.

“I don’t know what you mean, Jack,” the shade drawled in that accent Jack liked so much, “I’ve got nothing.” He innocently displayed his empty hands, as if that meant anything at all. “But I do approve of your new… accoutrements. They’re very…  _ classic.”  _

Jack had to fight not to laugh as he shook his head in mock disapproval. Fuck this man for being so hilariously perfect. Jack hadn’t thought he could be any more serious about their courting, but this… 

Jack wanted him more than he ever had, now.

“I’ll show  _ you  _ classic,” Jack began, but whatever threat was going to follow was interrupted by North’s booming voice.

“Pitch! Where did you find those?” Strangely, he didn’t sound upset, or even concerned. In fact, he sounded almost…  _ amused,  _ “It is very funny.” 

The self-appointed leader of the Guardians stepped around the crowd to lay a friendly hand on Jack’s shoulder, and Jack was honestly shocked that it really did feel friendly, and not protective or guarded or any number of other things he had come to associate with North when facing Pitch Black. Instead, the jolly spirit  _ winked, _ “You are on Naughty List for that, of course.”

It was the  _ Nightmare King  _ who looked concerned, and that seemed to be it. The ice was broken and nobody cared that Pitch Black had temporarily terrified the whole party not five minutes ago. Everyone accepted that it was all in good fun and Jack didn’t even have to say anything to persuade them.

Huh.

With the games over and nothing left to win, the party’s attention shifted straight to the food. The yetis were as well known for their cooking as the elves were for untrustworthy cookies. Jack swiped a mug of cocoa from a nearby tray and made quick work of turning it into a chocolate slushie, but it was really just for show. Jack wasn’t craving chocolate, he was craving company, but mugless mingling would look a lot more strange and awkward, especially with the beeline Jack made for Pitch.

Evidently the shade didn’t want to be caught, because he disappeared into the crowd almost as fast as he had arrived in the first place. Jack stared in unimpressed silence at the place where the Nightmare King  _ had  _ been, until he snorted and rolled his eyes. Well alright, if the asshole wanted to play hard to get…

Jack was usually on the other end of the cat and mouse game, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t play. After a night full of excitement and that special brand of  _ Wonder  _ North was always so good for, not a spirit in the place had the energy to care that Jack Frost was skipping around the room, dodging between guests and hopping up into the rafters to get a better look of where his unwilling target might be. 

“Blimey, Snowflake,” Bunny called out after Jack’s third pass under his arm, “Give it a rest, would ya? I’m gettin’ dizzy just watching you!”

Jack laughed and batted the bundle of mistletoe hanging above him and to the left with the end of his staff. He’d already run face-first into at least three bouquets in his rush. “Have you tried  _ not  _ doing that?”

Just as planned, before Bunny could answer, another guest had realized their proximity to Bunny underneath it. Jack leapt from his perch to the beautiful sound of a squawking rabbit in his wake. 

The problem with hunting down Pitch was that he could be paper thin and on any surface and even if Jack did spot him, light traveled faster than anything, its absence just as quick. And then, after the fourth bouquet Jack ate, the light bulb in his mind finally lit. 

Pitch was  _ purposely  _ leading him in circles, and more importantly, face-first into festive decor. Jack wondered at his own imprudent idiocy. Just how many times was he going to let Pitch do that to him before he got a little bit better at  _ not  _ falling for it? 

Not that the realization particularly helped. He still couldn’t catch Pitch. Unless… 

Jack became the mouse. He wasn’t as stealthy as the Nightmare King, but he could sneak around as good as anybody corporeal. And once the pattern was known, Jack just had to slide unnoticed along Pitch’s planned path to the next bundle of mistletoe and wait for the shade to get impatient.

Pitch would have showed up there eventually, trying to get Jack to sprint right into the bouquet, but without Jack’s obvious and immediate attention, Pitch showed a  _ little bit  _ more. He actually stayed solid for a second or two, looking but trying-not-to-look-like-he-was-looking for Jack around the room. It couldn’t have been more perfect.

Jack lunged from his hideout and threw a punch right at the fabulous asshole.

From many a run-in with the Sandman, Pitch’s reflexes for surprise attacks were finely honed and he leaned back with plenty of time to avoid Jack’s fist. That was fine. It would have felt good to land it, but Jack had bigger plans in store. 

While the shade was horribly off-balanced, Jack threw himself forward and trapped the illusive spirit in a vice-like hug.  _ Finally.  _

The noise that came out of Pitch definitely implied he hadn’t been expecting that, but he wasn’t wiggling away or cursing Jack’s name so it was probably okay. In fact, Jack took it to mean he could loosen his hold a bit and Pitch  _ probably  _ wouldn’t run away again. 

He didn’t. Pitch stared at Jack like he couldn’t believe Jack was real, a look Jack was too familiar with, but on Pitch it didn’t make him sad. It made him  _ warm.  _

“Took you long enough,” Jack teased like it hadn’t been him who spent the better part of an hour on the chase, “I was waiting there  _ forever.”  _

The stunned look was wiped from Pitch’s face with record swiftness. Jack’s return to his old tricks in turn sent Pitch back to his. He snorted, and rolled bright, metallic eyes northward-

Then froze. 

That’s right. He had been luring Jack toward mistletoe. Of course it would still be there. Did that mean?...

And hadn’t that been Pitch’s plan? An eager grin pulled at the Nightmare King’s lips. He had more or less given up on it, after his other idea had gone so well. He’d more or less given up on it earlier than that, if he was truthful with himself. It had hardly even been a plan, just an idea… 

Just a want.

_ “Jack…”  _

Pitch had been looking up too long, so the spirit of fun had already been on his way to checking it out for himself. Jack’s grin spread much faster than Pitch’s had.  _ Of course.  _

He took Pitch’s face between his hands, because there was  _ no way  _ he was missing out on this opportunity. They were going to kiss. Even if Jack had to beat off every other spirit with his stick. 

It didn’t look like he was going to have to do that, so Jack continued with plan A, and pulled Pitch’s face closer to his. “You silly idiot,” he teased, and it looked like Pitch’s eyes might’ve dimmed just a bit at those words. That was no good. Jack was all about  _ fun.  _ “You don’t need mistletoe for an excuse to kiss  _ me. _ ”

The light came back. Jack felt an excited flutter low in his stomach. And then Pitch leaned in.

The flutter became a  _ burst.  _

Pitch’s lips were smooth and cool. Pitch’s tongue was smoother. Jack pressed his body to the shade’s and enjoyed the feeling of long, slim fingers curling around his neck and into his hair and-

They got stuck. 

Pitch made a small, unhappy sound as he tugged uselessly at the short strands of Jack’s hair stuck to the hat frozen upon his head. Yeah, Jack didn’t like it much, either. 

He licked his lips as they parted, and gave Pitch a  _ look,  _ “And that’s your fault, you know.”

Pitch offered an unimpressed reply, “I’m so sorry. Would you like a written apology?”

Jack smirked and immediately took advantage, “I’d like you to make it up to me.”

“Oh, gross!” Bunny interrupted, and Jack had been  _ thoroughly  _ enjoying the slow smile spreading across Pitch’s face, “I don’t wanna see  _ any  _ of that. Just what do ya think you’re doin’, mate? You remember he tried to kill us all, right?”

“Kill is a strong word, Bunny,” Jack shrugged.

“I did, though,” Pitch stared.

“Shh!” Jack pressed a hand to Pitch’s mouth, “No wonder you keep getting caught. You can’t even plead the fifth properly.”

Bunny threw out his hands, “Why are you  _ helping  _ him?!”

Jack blinked innocently, “I’ve gotta crush.”

That was all Pitch needed to hear. He wrapped long arms around Jack’s shoulders and pulled him in. If the Guardian really meant it, and if he was saying it to another Guardian than the chances were good that he did, then it was time for them to leave.

They needed to…  _ talk.  _

“We’ll see you around.”

Bunny’s eyes widened and he lunged forward, “Wait, that’s not what I-”

But they were already in the shadows.


	7. An epilogue of sorts

Jack sipped his lukewarm cocoa and tugged the throw blanket tighter around his shoulders. He didn’t need it, of course, but the aesthetic suited him and the blanket felt soft against his exposed chin.

The shoes hadn’t been so bad, but getting the frozen hat off his head had been an absolute bitch. Jack was pretty sure Pitch fully regretted his prank by the time they finally got every strand of hair un-attached. Jack still didn’t. Without the nuisance, Jack may have never gotten his kiss.

Or the many that followed. Turned out, Pitch would take literally any excuse to kiss. Every time his hair was pulled and Jack said ow, Pitch was right there with a kiss to make it better. It got a little ridiculous. Or a  _ lot  _ ridiculous, but Jack didn’t mind. It was probably going to take a long while before Jack started to mind.

“You like yours hot, right?” Jamie asked from the other side of the coffee table. He was holding a steaming mug out to Pitch. 

Jack hid his smile by burrowing further into the blanket and scarf wrapped around his neck. Every word Jamie had said way back when was true. He  _ did  _ believe in Pitch. But the Nightmare King held no sway over the boy-now man’s- fear, and the way Pitch grumpily accepted the cocoa from the outright  _ unbothered  _ teen said everything about how he felt about it. 

They’d ended up in Jamie’s dorm. As great as Pitch’s lair was, and Jack’s lake was very pretty too, there was something to be said for neutral ground and someone else to talk to who wasn’t ‘on someone’s side.’ Pitch might have picked someone  _ other  _ than the child who had ruined his plans to take over the world, but the list of people who believed in both of them was unfortunately short. And Jack just really liked Jamie.

“Just don’t get cocoa on my scarf,” Jamie chided on his way back to the kitchenette. 

He had been absolutely amazing about it. Welcomed Pitch in like it was no big deal. Or, maybe just a different kind of big deal. He had given Jack a knowing smile, rolled his eyes, muttered,  _ ‘Finally,’  _ and indulged Jack when he asked to borrow a scarf and a couch to snuggle on.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Pitch muttered into his mug.

Jack tugged on the scarf looped around Pitch’s neck dangerously, “We’re not getting cocoa on Jamie’s scarf.”

“Why not?” and now Pitch just sounded whiny, “I’ll do what I want.”

Jack snorted at his antics, “Because then we’d be wearing a soggy cocoa scarf and how is that better?” 

Pitch sulked.

Jack sighed and looped his arm tight around Pitch’s, “What’s wrong?”

Pitch was quiet for a long time, and Jack began to wonder how deep of a rabbit hole he had uncovered, but then he just said, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“I’m sitting on a couch with my arch nemesis, smothered by a blanket I don’t need, choked by a scarf that belongs to the snot-nosed brat who destroyed my plans and threw me down the darkest hole to rot in my own fear,” Pitch sneered, “but… nothing.”

Jack propped his chin on Pitch’s shoulder, “That sounds like a whole lot of something.”

“I’m just bitter.”

“I got that.”

Pitch turned his head to catch Jack’s eye, and for several heartbeats neither said anything.

“This isn’t awful.”

Jack offered a reserved smile, “I think it’s quite nice.”

“I got that.”

Jack bit his lip. That was fair. Not only fair, it  _ made sense  _ that Pitch would be uncomfortable here, and Jack was expecting a lot from him to think he could get over it and be okay just because Jack liked it here, and-

Pitch rolled his eyes and dropped another kiss on the corner of Jack’s lips. 

“I  _ will  _ get over it.”

Jack bit his lip for another reason now. It was  _ damned  _ convenient when your boyfriend always knew your fears.

“Okay,” Jack let his smile escape, and returned Pitch’s kiss with a little peck on his cheek, “I believe in you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original requests:
> 
> 1 - christmas shennanigans!! jack trying to show pitch the fun of christmas. or both of them hating christmas and the rest of the guardians roping them into a party. mistletoe drama?? so many options!!   
> 2 - jack has pulled so many pranks on pitch that pitch decides he has to get back at him and end it, once and for all. little does he know that this is what jack's been waiting for all along ~  
> 3 - scarves & hot cocoa & cuddling ~
> 
> Check, check, and check. Hope it was worth the wait, Ree~


End file.
